


The Rise of Ren

by Ayrith



Series: Rise With the Dawn [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Ben Solo Needs A Hug, Dark Rey (Star Wars), Dark apprentices in training, Enemies to Lovers, Everyone is at an age of consent, F/M, Family Issues, Force Bond (Star Wars), Knights of Ren - Freeform, POV Kylo Ren, Power Dynamics, Power Play, Pre-Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Rey (Star Wars) Backstory, Rey Needs A Hug, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, The Force, first order rey, name kink, rampant destruction of masks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:06:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22609756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ayrith/pseuds/Ayrith
Summary: She shrugged. “You either rise with the Dawn or you don’t.” Her tone was matter of fact. It sounded like a oft-cited mantra, or a prayer. “The First Order is the same. They don’t care about us. They care about results." Her eyes met his, intense. "If you want something more in this life, you have to take it…or it will be taken from you.”For the last seat in the Knights of Ren, there are two candidates. The first, a powerful scion of a great Force legacy, formally trained by the last Jedi. The second, a force sensitive urchin with no past, nurtured by the cut-throat criminal underworld.Kylo or Kira. There can only be one.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey & Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Series: Rise With the Dawn [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1641508
Comments: 41
Kudos: 64
Collections: For one is both and both are one in love: The Reylo Fanfiction Anthology's Valentine's Day Exchange





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Merixcil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merixcil/gifts).



> As I am mostly familiar with movie canon and this is a pre-TFA alternate reality/universe fic, I’m gonna be playing fast and loose with Knights of Ren backstory and Rey and Ben’s timeline/age related canon continuity. This is NOT compliant with The Rise of Kylo Ren comic (which I haven't yet read), though there may be somethings I lifted from wookipedia here and there. 
> 
> Since the movies don’t say ages, assume ALL characters (and Rey in particular) are of age of consent in this fic.

The smell of ozone and ash still clung to his robes as Kylo stepped off the First Order transport into the cavernous bay of a first class Star Destroyer and stopped short, heart pounding.

In front of him stood a sea of stormtroopers, their armor polished to an incandescent white and their guns resting at their hips. A thousand masks of black and white, empty black eye sockets that seemed to be looking at him no matter what direction.

Stormtrooper—Imperial, First Order, he saw no difference standing here—the veritable boogieman of his childhood, the proclaimed real villains of his young adult life. The specters that he only heard in whispered conversations involving his mother or his…former master, always quickly silenced when a young Ben Solo entered the room.

Years of training and instinct had him reaching surreptitiously for a weapon at his side — that was not there.

A cold hand gripping his shoulder brought Kylo back to himself. He looked up to see Supreme Leader Snoke standing beside him, so tall that Kylo had to crane his neck back, those liquid cold eyes so alien and piercing that he felt — he _knew_ — could see right into Kylo’s very soul.

His new master, now.

“You are wary,” Snoke said softly. His hand lifted to gesture at the sea of men standing at attention. His voice echoed grandiosely in the room, echoed in Kylo’s head. “This is understandable — why shouldn’t you be? You have spent your whole life being taught to shun what your forebears had feared in their short sightedness. You were taught to fear…this…” cold eyes seared through him, “… _power_.” 

As thousand masks tilted their empty gazes at Kylo, and yet it was _Snoke’s_ scrutiny that made him feel pinned like a specimen on a collector board. He did his best to breathe evenly, to endure it. Eventually, he felt Snoke’s gaze pass over him like a search beacon, felt a physical sensation of relief as the Supreme Leader turned away, vaguely dismissive as he concluded in a softer voice, “But you have nothing to fear, Kylo. You made the right decision coming to me. Your parents would merely have failed you. And you would have become a failure like them.”

Snoke always saw so _much_.

Fear pulsed through him, which he pushed down immediately, afraid he would be _seen_. But Snoke was already striding forward with serpentine grace, approaching a line of black that stood in the front of the storm troopers. Several men wore the stiff black uniforms of officers, various metals gleaming on their epaulets. But they were not the ones to catch Kylo’s attention as he slowly followed after the Supreme Leader down the runway, pausing a respectable distance behind.

In front of of the officers, forming the shape of a black crescent moon that fanned around the opening of the transport, stood the infamous Knights of Ren. Six figures in dark cloaks, each wearing a recognizable mask and carrying a cruel iron weapon. There had been carefully kept records in the Jedi Temple about each of them, drawings and notes in a cramped script that dutifully recorded every rumor, name and bloody history tied to each mask. He wondered if those records had survived the burning or if they had burned as his master had.

“My Knights of Ren,” Snoke was saying, opening his arms wide. “I have brought a worthy candidate for your esteemed ranks— an asset that I have had my eye on for quite some time. He comes from a great Force legacy. He holds much _promise_.”

A Knight of Ren with a hooded mask stepped forward, voice distorted and deep. “Of course, Supreme Leader. ” He turned towards Kylo, expression impenetrable under the mask—and Kylo felt a sharp surge of resentment. Another mask, while _he_ wore only the burned Jedi robes on his back, his uncle’s blood splattered on his hands and shirt, the ash of charred bodies he had to _flee through_ still clinging to his boots and legs. His only soveniers left to remember a former life of utter waste and ruin—

The Knight hummed, then looked away. “Promising indeed. What would you have us do.”

“Prepare him,” Snoke said simply. “Train him. Remove from him the unnecessary habits that have been instilled by lesser men. He will become an apprentice in the force and apprentice in the art of war—”

Snoke’s voice faded to the background as a slight movement in Kylo’s periphery diverted his attention. Behind the knights, but clearly not a part of the officers, stood one other person, exposed to his line of sight when the other Knight had stepped forward. A short figure, dressed not in black but in a patchwork of dark and silver armor with dark hair tied in a series of knots. Kylo’s eyes lingered on the Anomid vocalizer mask, filigreed with intricate synthetic filter paper and delicate wire that wound down across the face, obscuring everything from the nose down. But not the eyes.

He was not sure what he had expected to see— vocalizer masks were as common among fugitives and bounty hunters as the Anomid species themselves. What he had _not_ expected to see were dark eyes fringed by long lashes and pale freckles looking at him solemnly. Young, open, _human_ — the shock of it made him forget where he was for a moment.

“Apprentice Kira.” Snoke’s voice, languid and dangerous.

Those dark eyes broke away from his gaze, then flicked down as the the short figure stepped lithely between the knights and dropped immediately to one knee at Snoke’s feet, head bowed. Snoke peered a long distance down at her and for a moment, Kylo had the half wild thought that his master might grip the bowed head with one hand and crush it between his fingers.

“Look who I have brought, Kira,” Snoke said instead, the same warm tone that Kylo recognized Snoke addressed _him_ with. A sick lump settled in his gut, hearing for the first time how wrong it sounded from the outside. “A peer in the Force. Perhaps his presence will inspire you to greater strides in your force training.”

Kira shifted ever so slightly. "Yes, Supreme Leader."

Snoke was gazing at _him_ now though, a spotlight on his mind. Kylo swallowed, then on pure instinct, moved to the empty spot beside Kira and knelt too, head bowed, a pale freckled hand bracing against the cold metal floor.

Kira did not glance at him, did not so much as move from her bowed position. She — now that he was closer, he could see Kira was definitely a human female — seemed so very _small_. Young dark eyes in a sea of white and black masks. Her brown gloved hand, braced against the floor near his own, was tiny compared to his — the tips of her fingers would barely reach the knuckles of his hands.

There was a smile in Snoke’s voice as he said over their heads, “You will come to find, Kylo, that the First Order will not die on the sword of stubborn egos. The teachings of the Jedi, if short sighed and limited, have uses. So too, the teachings of the Sith. So remember this: take all what you have learned. Discard what is unnecessary. Hone what is left with purpose. Learn what is to be offered. Learn what is to be _teached_.”

“Yes, master,” Kylo said. A drop of sweat dripped down his nose and onto his hand, merging with a lurid red blood splatter on his knuckle.

“Good.“ Snoke turned away, and then paused. “Oh and Kira?”

Kira shifted beside him. “Yes, Supreme Leader?” Even through the added layers of the distortion mask, her voice was thin and high and Kylo had to force himself not to blink at how young she sounded. She sounded hardly older than a _girl_.

Snoke’s eyes gleamed cruelly. “See this as an opportunity to rise to the occasion. To prove your master’s great expectations of you.”

Perhaps it was the trick of the light. Perhaps because he was at an odd angle, kneeling just close enough that he could see behind Kira’s mask. But for a moment he swore he saw Kira bare her teeth at Snoke’s words, fierce and hateful. For what reason, Kylo did not know.

“…Yes, Supreme Leader.”

* * *

It took mere weeks for Kylo to be swiftly disabused of his assumptions, and a few more to realize exactly how far off he had been in the first place.

Apprentice Kira was _not_ a girl.

From his position on the floor, the blunt end of a staff digging harshly into the exposed crease between helmet and jaw, Kylo glared up at the person in question and sneered, “You are an _animal.”_

Kira’s eyes narrowed. As usual she had forgone full headgear — today she wore a tie fighter ventilator, the bulky filters missing and giving the mask an eery resemblance to a skull. The three knots of her hair were coming undone from when he had gotten frustrated and grabbed for them, and one of her eyes that had met with his elbow was already starting to swell. He didn’t have to see to know she was baring her teeth at him.“You grabbed my _hair_.”

He was about to retort that maybe she should cover it if she didn’t want it to be yanked, when he was interrupted by a slow clap from the edge of the sparring mat. “Yes, yes, you are all beasts,” said Cardo Ren. The flat black of his mask, only slitted around where the eyes should have been, suitably conveyed the boredom in his voice. “Let us skip the usual noise and finish this, yes?”

Kira and Kylo stared hard at each other. Finally with a rough sound, she jerked the staff away, metal grinding along his mask edge and making his teeth hurt. She stalked to the end of the room, throwing the staff on a table and moved to examine a wicked looking scythe.

Kylo wrenched to his feet, breathing heavily, and went to retrieve the flat blade knocked from his hand. His hair and face were wet with sweat under his mask, but he’d be damned taking it off now. He wouldn’t give them— _her_ —the satisfaction of seeing him try to contain his emotions, especially since Kira brought out particularly vitriolic ones from him.

Kylo scowled at the bright red First Order symbol emblazoned on the mat. A few months, and here he was, on a training mat once again. For all that everything had changed, the daily routine of Kylo’s life with the First Order was not much different to the one he had lived as a student at the Jedi Temple. Training, meditation, teaching, study. Missions with the Knights that showed him his strengths and his (many) significant inadequacies; visits with Snoke that left him gutted and in pieces that he was forced to re-forge anew each time. Between all that, there ran an endless parade of peripheral faceless people that served as stepping stones to further along Snoke’s expectations and Kylo’s great destiny.

Except one. One face refused to fade into the background of his life, instead striking like vindictive lightning into the careful structure of Kylo’s days.

“Again,” Cardo said, flicking fingers at them. “And this time, plasma on. Perhaps then Kylo will take this exercise more seriously.”

Kylo’s head snapped towards Cardo, glowering. “If you let me use the Force—“

“No Force,” Cardo interrupted. “It’s Ushar’s job to figure out how to protect the ship from you two imbeciles, not mine.”

Kylo growled, channeling his anger into a strike at one of the practice walls already riddled with slashes. The spark and screech of metal was satisfying—now if only he could land a hit like _that_ during one of their sparring matches.

If he was using the force...

“Weapons?” Cardo asked from the side lines as Kylo moved to the center of the ring once more.

“Blade,” Kylo said immediately, and sneered as Kira snorted from the corner.

“So predictable,” she said, tone scathing. “You ever think that might be the problem?”

“Lightsabers are _blades_ ,” he growled, fed up with having this repeated discussion. “Why would I bother with anything else.”

Kira said nothing, fingers running over the black chain of a spiked flail. He felt a drip of sweat trickle down his neck—he hated when she used that thing—when suddenly Kira whirled around, grabbing a slim saber from a rack on the floor. “Blade,” she said flatly, moving towards Kylo and readying her stance.

Kylo stared speechless. Even Cardo paused for the barest second. Kira never used a blade against Kylo in training. Not because she wasn’t good with one, but because in no-Force matches, he far out-classed her in both weight and raw strength. If there blades locked, it was game over.

“Letting him get to you, Kira?” Cardo mused even as Kylo couldn’t contain the feral grin breaking across his face behind his mask. He hunched over, stroking his own blade in a loving caress.

Kira’s eyes were on him alone. “ _Blade_ ,” Kira repeated lowly, and with a twist of the weapon base, hot plasma erupted along a single edge, purple and crackling. In response Kylo ignited his own, feeling the metal blade vibrate under his hand in a shower of red hot sparks. He hefted the blade a moment again, feeling the weight of it. A crude, heavy instrument in comparison to a lightsaber, and yet suitable enough for its purpose when plasma powered.

Oh, he was going to _enjoy_ knocking her to the ground for once. 

They were already circling each other when Cardo gave a small shrug and retreated to the far wall. “Begin.”

Kylo lunged forward, his blade slashing powerfully at her chest. Kira whirled away, sliding towards his weak side and whipping the tip of her sword for his blade hand. A powerful parry from him had her staggering back, her arm shaking. She retreated, eyebrows knitting, but he was not far behind.

Strike and parry, slash and block, stab and side step. Kira and Kylo danced across the practice hall under a parade of showering sparks. Her blade was lighter but his reach was greater, and the more she retreated the faster he bared down on her. The longer the battle lasted the more the scales tipped in his favor— they both knew it.

As the precious seconds ticked by, he watched with pleasure as Kira’s normal control began to fray at the edges. Her strikes became wilder, more erratic. And eventually she slipped—a stab at his chest out of frustration, when she should have retreated— and he seized his chance.

Two steps and a running leap before she could roll away and Kylo had her—their blades locked at the hilt, sparks flickering and sizzling hot against their skin. Behind the plasma halo, Kira’s eyes widened and Kylo felt the ambrosia of victory fill his chest. Delighted laughter spilled from his mouth as he bared down, forcing her to bend under him, watching in full up close glory as fury and panic filled those dark plasma ringed eyes

And then somehow… he slipped into them.

_The desert of Jakku was a barren wasteland and Rey had known nothing else. Her mother touching her hair with a frail, shaking hand, eyes glazed. Her father drunk in the corner, unmoving—_

Kira’s eyes widened, pupils dilating.

_—The raging desert storms rattling the cage of a broken down AT-AT. They hadn’t made it home. Rey huddled under the table with her straw doll in one hand and an empty quarter portion bag in the other. There was a dry chalky powder lining the bottom of the bag that she tried to lick with a dry mouth—_

Kira’s face twisted, a scream ripping from her throat.

_—A blonde woman crouching in front of her, holding her chin sharply. Her lips were red and her eyes was cold. “Fifty imperial credits. She’s hardly worth thirty.”_

_The clink of credits. A black flag with red circles, whipping in the wind. Her mother, weeping in the sand. Her father, thin as a rail and yet more lucid then Rey had ever seen him, screaming into the horizon as someone dragged her away hard by the neck. “She will kill you! She will_ kill you!”

There was a pulse in the force. Then Kira _shoved_ , the room rattling from a sudden surfeit of wind that shook the room. Kylo, shocked, felt the full brunt of it and staggered back, only to find Kira charging him with a furious shout, her blade aimed for his head. He parried, arm shuddering with effort, only for her to reverse her strike, blades locking and catching him at a bad angle.

Her eyes were hot and furious and blacker than the bottom of the Chandrillian ocean—

_—Their house on Chandrilla was a mansion filled with servants._ _His father smiled nervously as he ruffled his hair. “I’ll be back kid. Get you something new instead of that old ratty thing.” Ben looked down, unable to speak, clutching a small stuffed animal to his chest, the faint perfume of his mother long since faded—_

Shocked, he threw his weight into their blades to disengage, but she pulled back, blade reversing quick as lightning, her eyes—

_—Yavin_ _4 was humid, wild, uncivilized. He was too big and awkward, the other students too wary. The only time Ben felt he could breathe was on a space ship, traveling as far away as possible from modern human civilization. But even then, there was solitude. His uncle was always looking out a window or a transparisteel viewport or with eyes fixed on the sunset, always searching for someone else to rescue or to teach, never seeing him standing_ right there _—_

This time he couldn’t move away in time, watching with shock as purple plasma shot like a white super nova towards his face.

_—Sickly green haloing his uncle’s face, horror and disbelief as the stones of the roof struck his back, that ancient Skywalker blood splattering on to Ben’s face and hands as both lightsabers sputtered, crushed,winking out—_

Instinct saved him. A quick jerk of his hand had him force blasting her arm up to divert the deadly edge of the strike…but it was not enough to prevent the flat of her blade from smashing into the top of his helmet like a sledgehammer.

Metal crinkled around his face like so much paper, his neck jerking to the side. Pain seared his skin, driving like a needle straight into his brain. The world disappeared as he went limp, blinking out. A microsecond of a blissful, unfeeling black world.

_“Ben, no!”_

Reality crashed into him, pain and noise. Kylo caught himself on one knee before he face planted into the ground, gasping for breath and his ears ringing. Through the cracked, sparking glass of his visor, he could see the purple blade lodged in the ceiling. And he saw _her_.

Kira stared down at him, her face flushed and fierce, eyes dilated in glorious, unholy fury.

Instead of feeling appropriate reciprocation, Kylo merely proved himself the beast he was, as the sight sent blood rushing straight to his cock. _Fuck_.

“Match over,” cut Cardo’s cold voice through the sudden fog in Kylo’s brain. “Kylo, report to the medbay immediately. And Kira, report to the disciplinary division for unsanctioned force use and for making me do _needless_ _paperwork_.”

Kira immediately stepped back, but despite the reprimand she’d didn’t look a bit remorseful. Latching on to that, Kylo staggered to his feet, hands already reaching for his helmet. He heard Cardo tut disapprovingly but he ignored it, ripping the hunk of metal off his head in a movement that made his head screech and the world sway. He ignored that too, turned the mask over in his hand to survey the damage and…his jaw worked wordlessly.

“ _Again_ ,” Kylo thundered, staring at the irreparably crushed helmet. He blinked up through spotted vision to see Kira’s back to him, storming out of the hold. This was the _fourth_ one she had destroyed.

“Perhaps if you like that stupid mask so much, then you should get _better_ ,” Kira shouted over her shoulder, and then with a whoosh the electronic door closed behind her.

Kylo whipped towards Cardo who was already trailing towards one of the adjacent doors. “I’m off the clock, bother someone else with your squabbles.” He paused, pointed a finger at him. “Medbay.”

Jaw working furiously, Kylo turned and threw the helmet with a crack at the wall, splintering it into pieces.


	2. Chapter 2

As big as the _Finalizer_ was, the crew was a bunch of loud gossips and brown-nosers. It didn’t take long for Kylo to begin hearing in off hand conversations or too loud whispers things about Apprentice Kira that he neither sought to find out or cared to know.

The bright blue of the hyper space lanes filled the transparisteel viewport of the Knight of Ren’s transport ship the _Night Buzzard_ , haloing the back of Kira’s head as she busied herself with flight checks and muttered, "Fourteen hours to Marca."

From the passenger seat, Kylo noted that she wore only a simple brown sand mask gathered under the three knots of her hair, disappearing into a massive black cowl wrapped around her shoulders. More exposed skin then he’d probably seen in the months of their acquaintance.

Trudgen Ren, who had been standing at the back of the cockpit, grunted and retreated into the only private quarters on the transport, likely to brood unmoving against a wall until they arrived. Trudgen hardly ever spoke unless it was to order them around, usually to tell them either to fetch something, to kill it or to _get out_.The quiet hiss of the doors punctuated the silence as Kylo reclined in his seat, watching Kira busy herself with the console.

They rarely had joint missions together outside of training, and mostly they avoided each other. That was going to be impossible on this trip. He might as well entertain himself.

"I do wonder," Kylo mused, his voice modulator broadcasting in a sibilant whisper in the cramped cockpit, and she stiffened, "how a scavenger brat from Jakku could have learned to pilot."

Her fingers stilled on the dials.

"How surprising," she said cooly. "I would think the soon to be great Kylo _Ren_ would have more interesting things to wonder about in his free time."

Kylo twitched. Neither of them could ascend to the title _Ren_ until they had completed their training. He had only an inkling of what that entailed for her, but for him— _his_ training had suffered major setbacks after news broke that Luke Skywalker, Jedi Master, had not been dead as his erstwhile former student had reported.

_The burden of masters is to be what their students rise above,_ Snoke had mused afterwards while dangling Kylo over a cliff. It had taken him days to recover from Snoke’s disappointment, and the lesson still burned. He would never become _Kylo Ren_ unless he made good on the promise of his new taken name. Kill the parts of his past that he had already cut away, that had only robbed him of his future.

He shouldn’t fall for her bait, but all the same he was no longer in the mood to play.

"Quite," he said through gritted teeth, standing up from his chair and stalking out of the room.

The cramped hall of the transport was too small for him to linger comfortably. The door at the far end of the hall—the one Trudgen had retreated too—gleamed an occupied red, so he turned abruptly to the other remaining door—the barracks— and slammed his fist on the the lock panel once it closed shut behind him. Let her sleep in the cockpit for all he cared.

The room was dark save for the slow pulse of red of the lock behind him, illuminating the dark outline of a set of four bunkbeds crammed into the space. The walkway was too small for him to walk straight through. He was forced to turn sideways in order reach the farthest bunk at the end, and his shins pressed into the bunk opposite as he sat heavily down, head ducked to avoid the top bunk from clobbering him. How eight people could possibly fit in this space was beyond him. He could hardly _breath_. He wrenched his helmet off, wet hair clinging to his forehead. He set the mask heavily on the thin pallet beside him.

Frankly, the bunks were not long enough for him to lay down on without his feet invading the adjacent bunk, and he may never wedge himself out again if he tried. So he sat there, elbows on knees and gloved hands steepled in front of his face. He closed his eyes.

Traditional meditation was the most useless training exercise ever conceived. Kylo was also terrible at it. Being pushed to his physical limits did more to clear his head then sitting still and attempting to “empty” himself, to _let go_ of all the churning internal bullshit.

Kylo clenched a fist, leather gloves creaking. Truthfully, he was not good at letting anything go. Even if it was trash, it was _his_ , no one else’s. As such, meditation had always felt like pulling his own teeth out with his bare hands, and he’d said as much to his uncle when he got old enough to stop worshipping the ground he walked on.

_Then you are not trying hard enough,_ Luke had said patiently— and what a double edged sword that had been. Luke had _always_ been patient and a young Ben had never been sure if that was just who his uncle was or if he really _believed_ that Ben could do it, that maybe if Ben just tried harder—

The metal bunk across from him creaked warningly. His force control was _shit_. Kylo grit his teeth, then slowly forced his fists to unclench, the bed rocking back where it was bolted to the floor. Meditation was so _pointless_.

_Then you are not trying hard enough._

Kylo was nothing if not a masochist.

A fruitless hour later, punctuated by the occasional crunch of surrounding metal furniture, Kylo was abruptly roused from his thoughts when there was an electronic beep at the end of the room.

The light of the door turned green before it opened and Apprentice Kira casually strolled in.

Every muscle in Kylo’s body tensed like he’d been electrocuted.

" _How_ did you open that,” he bit out. One could not force open these magnetically locked doors without irreparably damaging the sensitive systems— he’d tried.

"I grew bored waiting,” she shrugged breezily, which was of course not an answer. She paused at the beginning of the walk way and laid a hand on the farthest bunk from him. He couldn’t see her face, only the profile of her outlined in green. "Beside it’s gonna be at least twelve hours more to Marca. I’d better sleep before you destroy all the remaining beds."

Kylo nearly brained himself on the top bunk when he tried to stand, until he thought better of it. Getting to her through the furniture would be a chore. “ _Excuse_ me?”

She yawned, hopping up unto the top bunk with a lithe, enviable grace that he would never achieve, then rolled over so her back was to him. "Relax, Kylo," she said, voice mumbled and already sleepy. “It’s called a joke. Also, try not to kill me in my sleep."

Kylo stared at her back, rendered speechless. She was—this was— _ridiculous._ He had half a mind to blow up all the furniture in the room out of pure spite, never mind that they were bolted down and he might tear the ship apart in the process—

A few seconds later…she started _snoring_.

* * *

Kylo rarely slept on missions and _never_ in the presence of others. He rarely slept well, period. Didn’t matter how long the trip or how tired he was or even how much he wanted to. Insomnia had been a companion since he was a child and his miserable best friend as an adult— and this long before he had left his old life behind and thrown himself into the veritable pit of blood thirsty lions that was the First Order.

So when one minute he was closing his eyes to tune out her good awful snoring and the next he was opening them again to find Kira on the bottom bunk opposite of him looking like she’d been sitting there for hours, Kylo blinked and was convinced for a long moment that he was hallucinating.

He wasn’t. His mouth felt like sandpaper, his eyes dry and crusty. He’d slumped awkwardly against the wall at some point and he had a painful crick in his neck as a result. All signs that he had actually fallen asleep.

But what really convinced him in the end was that Kira was in front of him…and she wasn’t wearing her mask.

Later, Kylo would blame his sleep disorientation for the way his eyes eagerly drank her in. Kira had her arms wrapped around one knee and a booted foot dangling over the edge close to his legs, staring at a fixed point on the ceiling. She was _humming_ of all things. And she was….as delicate as he’d thought she would be. Straight nose, a full mouth, cheeks chafed where the straps had dug into her skin, and freckles, so many freckles, dusting all over. She was chewing the corner of her lip, a single dimple digging into her left check. With her hair in it’s normal three knots, escaped tendrils curling around her ears and the nape of her neck….

How the _fuck_ did this girl repeatedly knock him around during their training sessions.

He must have stiffened or made a sound, because Kira’s eyes flicked to his and her nose crinkled ever so slightly, mouth quirking. Along with the mask, she’d ditched the cowl too. The thin material of her short sleeve top gaped as she leaned forward with a smile, revealing a long pale throat and a shadow of cleavage. "Good morning, sunshine."

Her voice was low and teasing, chocolate and wine on a warm Hosnien Prime evening under city lights.

Kylo was speechless—and the higher functioning part of his brain told him she was doing it on purpose. There could be no other reason for this situation he’d awoken to. They could hardly stand each other on their “good” days. Certainly this wasn’t the normal “Kira” he was used to.

The base part of his brain, however, took one look at that red mouth and the rucked fabric around her neck and breasts and— _Fuck_.

He needed to get laid. And _not_ with— _fuck_.

Kylo averted his eyes and grunted, sitting up. "Time?" His voice could have come from the tectonic bowels of a planet, all gravel.

Kira bit her lip slightly, the booted foot stretched closest to him flexing a little and nearly brushing his knee. Her ankle was small, delicate looking. His hind brain helpfully suggested that it would be a simple matter to wrap his whole hand around it and then some.

"Five hours left," she said. Then, lowly, "So you _do_ take off your mask."

Kylo grunted. What was _with_ this girl and masks. He didn’t hear her bothering the Knights of Ren about theirs or trying to repeatedly dislodge it from their skulls. Speaking of which… he glanced to the left at said object, which sat tilted on it’s side at the end of the bed.

He felt a strong urge to put it on, claustrophobic room be damned. He knew he wasn’t good at controlling his emotions—part and parcel with his inability to meditate. But Kira’s dark eyes were amused like she just _knew_ what he was thinking and was seeing if he’d retreat like a coward.

“Don’t you have somewhere else to be?” he muttered, rubbing his face with a gloved hand.

Kira tutted. “Ship is fine, already checked on things. And Trudgen is being his usual unavailable self.” Then she cocked her head, edge of her mouth curling. “Why, am I bothering you?”

She sounded delighted.

“Why _yes_ , actually,” he ground out, dropping his hand to glare at her. For all the good it ever did.

And now she looked delighted, and damn him if his eyes didn’t stray to her breasts again.

“Don’t be so petty,” She said, fingers playing with the fabric near her knee. “Unless you think destroying our ship in the middle of a hyperspace jump just to do _whatever_ you were doing a few hours ago is a good idea, you might as well just talk to me.” Fingers played with a frayed edge. “For once.”

For a moment he contemplated just heading towards the cockpit to get away from her—in which case, he would surrender the room to her and have to sit in a cramped chair for five more hours. His lips curled in distaste.

“About what,” he said mulishly, shifting slightly to rest his weight better against the wall.

Rey rested her chin on her knee, staring at him. Her eyelashes were long and full. He’d always thought his own brown eyes were bland as fuck but on her the color was dark and rich and deep.

“I didn’t learn on Jakku,” she said suddenly. At Kylo’s blank stare, she added. “Piloting. I was only there until I was six. I learned piloting on Savareen, with the Dawn. I drove the getaway vehicles until I was nine.”

It took him a moment to realize she was answering his question from hours ago, and it took him longer to realize she wasn’t talking about a metaphorical sunrise. Despite himself, he couldn’t help the way his eyebrows raised into his hairline. “The Crimson Dawn?” At her nod, he added,” They let a nine year old fly?”

She huffed. “I happened to be _very_ good at it.” Her eyes slid to his, voice lowering. “As you are, I bet.”

Kylo’s jaw twitched. There was no response to that without sounding either grossly arrogant or entirely inappropriate.

Smiling slightly, Kira continued, “Well, you know how it is with the Force sometimes. Once you’ve got the basics it becomes as natural as breathing. Within the year, I was piloting the transports, and after that moved on to the death squads.” Her face turned flat here. "I got good at that too."

If the rumors were true, then at fourteen, Kira had been at the top of the syndicate underworld, her name tied to some of the biggest figureheads. And then they’d tried to kill her. Her own syndicate had gutted her in one of their warehouses and then abandoned her to raiding First Order troops. It should have been a death sentence. Except, of course, that the FO had decided to keep her.

And here she was, several years later, an apprentice to the Knights of Ren.

Kylo’s eyes flicked to the floor.

At six, he’d been taking private tutoring lessons from Chandrillan University professors and had to be watched at night by the maid because he couldn’t sleep through his increasingly erratic night terrors. At eight, he had finally stopped crying every time his parents were gone for month long business trips. The contrast between her childhood and his couldn’t have been more starker.

There were a whole host of glittery sharp feelings in his chest that didn’t deserve definition, either because he didn’t know what they were, they didn’t make sense toward _her,_ or they felt shamefully selfish. And that just made him angry.

“I see,” he said, tight lipped.

She shrugged. “You either rise with the Dawn or you don’t.” Her tone was matter of fact. It sounded like a oft-cited mantra, or a prayer. “The First Order is the same. They don’t care about us. They care about results." Her eyes met his, intense. "If you want something more in this life, you have to take it…or it will be taken from you.”

The words hovered between them, silver limned and tempting.

Then she was shaking herself, the way a dog might rid itself of water, and was scooting closer with a mischievous look. He stiffened as her foot crossed the gap between them to rest on his side of the bunk, near flush against his thigh. She was now blocking his exit.

“Speaking of which….your turn,” she said playfully, nudging him with her boot.

His hand snapped down and gripped her ankle tightly, a warning. She merely grinned. His baser brain whispered _told you so_ at the delicate whirl of ankle bone under his thumb.

His jaw worked. “Stop with the games.”

“Why?” She leaned close, her eyelids fluttering, “Do you want something more?” and then something clicked into place, just like that time in the training room.

_He lay where she had knocked him to the ground, that god forsaken helmet crumpled in the corner. A man who could lay waste to mountains, laid low at her feet. He looked up at her, his eyes obsidian and hateful and so rich in this world of unfeeling masks, her new name a rasp on his lips. She hated the name. Especially from him. She wanted her real name falling from his mouth, as she planted her foot on his chest—_

He roughly shoved her foot away from him.

Her eyes glittered. “Afraid?”

Something violent skittered white hot in his chest. He stood, snatching up his helmet. He didn’t allow himself to savor the way she leaned back, the way she looked up at him between hooded eyes— this was all part of her game. He’d rather sit in those stupid too small chairs in the cockpit for five hours then sit another minute in here with her.

He’d only made it a few steps when she said casually to his back, “Suit yourself. I know enough anyway.”

_His face, the day they had met. So angry, so desperate to hide. She’d never met a Jedi as expressive as him._

He whirled around, a fist hitting the middle bunk and caving a little under the force. “And _what,”_ he bit out, hate bitter and burning in his mouth, “do you _think_ you know about me.”

Kira hadn’t so much as stirred at his outburst. But she did rise to her feet to meet him now and the look of mockery on her face made him light headed. If she had been someone else before, she was full Kira now.

“Poor Ben Solo,” she whispered, and he _flinched._ No one should know that name. _“_ Had everything in the world and yet cared for none of it. Family wasn’t enough. Love wasn’t enough. Couldn’t ever be _good_ enough. Had to try to kill it all, instead.”

He would have reached out and choked her with his bare hands if she were close enough. The beds around them started to lean away from him, the panels above them groaning at the metallic joins. If they weren’t still in hyper space, he would have ripped the ship apart.

“You know _nothing_ ,” he hissed, and the memories of a hellish landscape of sand he had never known filled his mind. “You are _no one._ You’re just _Rey,_ the spawn of filthy junk traders that sold you for drinking money to the syndicates. You know nothing about my life, because everyone in _your_ life has only ever abandoned you and left you to _die_.”

She paled, expression cracking a little and for a moment he got a glimpse in her eyes of a black chasm, endless and unquenchable and as familiar as the one in his own. But then her expression shuttered closed. “At least I am not ashamed of who I am.”

_GOOD FOR YOU._

He wanted to shout it in her face, to throttle her. But he couldn’t bear letting the words past his lips. It would say too much. He’d already said too much.

Without a word, he threw his helmet at the ground between them. It caved and popped, glass showering everywhere. “I am not ashamed,” he said, lips trembling, “of what I will _become_.” Then he stormed towards the entrance of the room, unable to look at her anymore.


	3. Chapter 3

Kira didn’t come out of the barracks when the ship dropped out of hyperspace, which was fine by Kylo, who took over the controls to dock at the Marca port. Trudgen came out while Kylo was waiting for the all clear to land, brooding like a gargoyle behind the co-pilot seat.

The room filled with silence, punctuated by Kylo occasionally pressing buttons or switching levers. At some point, Trudgen grunted, “Use the Force on a ship I’m on again and you die.”

The cockpit behind them swished open loudly, saving Kylo from responding. He flipped off the auto pilot, settling his hands on the steering wheel, and then gave a quick glance over his shoulder…in time to see Kira strolling in with the dented remains of _his_ helmet on her head.

Kylo almost dropped the controls and force pulled the helmet to him, in which case Trudgen would certainly have beheaded him on the spot. He resisted but just barely, hands tight on the wheel. Trudgen’s eyes were heavy on him behind the black mask.

“That’s _mine_ ,” Kylo hissed at the dark swampy landscape of Marca, glaring balefully at Kira’s reflection on the inside of the transparisteel.

There was the thump of a body dropping into a chair. A helmet hitting the seat. Kira muttered in annoyance, “Oh yeah? Do you keep all six of the other ones in your room too?”

“Kira”, Trudgen growled when the ship jerked slightly under Kylo’s too tight grip. “If he fucks up the landing because of you, you better hope you die in the crash.”

The remainder of the landing was done in complete silence.

Marca was an obscure mining swamp planet in the Outer Rim that had been a war torn battle ground since the old Republic. It’s rich hyperbaride mineral deposits had made it a key acquisition for the Galactic Empire. After the fall of the Empire, Marca had become a hot bed of some the worst cartels in the galaxy, fighting for control of distribution of the superheavy metal. The resulting skyrocketing prices on the market had drawn the eyes of the First Order.

First Order troops had been on the planet for six months. While many of the smaller organizations had been put down, the Hutt Cartel, the Bombaasa Cartel, and the Black Suns still had significant presence to drive forces to a stand still. Enough that the Knights of Ren had finally been called in.

The second the ship rocked on to its landing gear and settled heavily onto the dock platform, Trudgen turned and strode out the cockpit, leaving the two apprentices in a waspish silence.

Kylo powered down the ship with a slam of the lever and then whirled in the pilot seat, glaring. Kira was still lounging in the passenger seat, hands folded over her stomach and dark eyes already fixed on him. His mask sat in the seat in front of her, a black spot between them.

They stared at each other, static charge filling the room. Their exchange from hours ago lingered between them, an invisible wound.

“You’re not going to use it,” she finally said, chin nudging at the mask. So she was going to avoid mentioning it, then. Fine by him.

“So?”

Her eyebrows knit, lips pursing. “Do you actually keep them?”

“None of your business.”

“Humor me.”

He did not want to humor her, he wanted to tell her to fuck off. But clearly that would not work. She never did anything he asked. He finally said with as much vitriol he could muster, “The materials are expensive. They are re-used.”

Kira’s eyebrows raised but she nodded. He could practically hear her thoughts as he sneered, “Yes I was aware, and if _you_ are aware, then stop destroying my things.”

“I didn’t destroy it this time—“

“ _I know_ ,” he grit out, and they lapsed into silence.

Kira’s fingers played with the hem of her shirt. She was chewing on her lip, one corner red and tender looking. Like she did that frequently. “All right,” she said finally, not looking at him, and Kylo blinked in surprise. “If you love the thing so much.”

His eyes narrowed. “I do not _love_ —“

“Wear something else during practice though,” she interrupted, waving a hand at him. “Helmets are a vision hazard if damaged. Get used to people going for them.”

Kylo scowled at the floor. It was true enough, even if most people didn’t go after them as vindictively as she did with him.“Fine.”

Silence. She stared at him and he ignored her.

“Well,” Kira said finally, hopping lithely to her feet and rolling her eyes. “Lovely chat as always, Kylo.” She strode for the door and Kylo waited for the swish of the automatic door that would signify her leaving. It didn’t come.

“By the way…” Her tone was different, and Kylo looked up. She was lingering at the door, running a hand over the frame. She was chewing the corner of her lip again. “I might have...said more then I intended earlier. In the barracks. I got carried away. ”

Her eyes flicked to his. A pregnant pause. She looked like she was about to say more, then shook her head and strode out.

The door shut and Kylo was left finally alone. He turned and contemplated the sad heap of crushed scrap metal on the chair, frowning. Then he rocked to his feet and strode out after her.

Marca was humid and brown, an endless stretch of swamp, marsh-grubber trees, and mud. Kylo hated it the moment he stepped out into what felt like a suffocating wet blanket. The soles of his boots were caked with mud before he’d made it two steps off the walkway.

Trudgen was towering over one of the dock hands, a green skinned Rodian, terrified and cowering. As they approached, the boy ran off and Trudgen turned sharply to them, snapping fingers at them. “Cover your faces. Supreme Leader’s orders.”

Rolling her eyes, Kira pulled her sand mask from her pocket and tied it around her head. Kylo simply stared at Trudgen, thinking of his crushed mask sitting in the copilot seat.

The sightless eyes of Trudgen’s mask bore into him. “Cover yourselves or you can stay on the ship,” he said, then stalked away.

“He means it,” Kira said beside him. “You better find something.”

Kylo stared at Trudgen’s back, then looked down at his cloak, mouth twisted in distaste at the thought of destroying it for such a stupid reason. Kira raised an eyebrow at him.

“You’re hopeless,” she said amused.

Kylo‘s eye twitched and he turned to snap at her only to find she was unwinding her loose black cowl around her neck. She held it out to him. Kylo stared at it blankly until she huffed and stepped into him, reaching on her tip toes to loop it around his neck. The warmth of her body against his, nearly touching but not quite, silenced him.

“Lean down a little,” she whispered, licking her lips, and he complied without thinking.

He stood there awkwardly as she fussed and arranged the scarf around the lower half of his face, her fingers occasionally brushing against his skin. After tucking in the ends, she hesitated, eyes flicking to his hair. Her fingers twitched a moment, before she drew back to look at him.

Kylo stared down at her. _Rey_ , he thought, the name on the tip of his tongue, unbidden and unwelcome, yet also undeniable.

Her eyes fluttered a little and now without the cowl he could see the slight flush in her neck and chest. If he didn’t know better, she looked...shy.

“That’ll do,” she mumbled, and then she dropped back on her heels and stepped away. The warmth of her disappeared. And then in a more normal tone she said, “I want it back. If you tear it, I will murder you.” A pause. “That’s only kind of a joke.”

Kylo stared, a gloved hand raising to touch the scarf. On her it had been massive, nearly a cloak. It didn’t smell like flowers or perfumes, like he half expected—just cotton and a musky, almost sweet smell of sweat that was exclusively female and oddly pleasant in a way.

Five hours ago he had wanted to throttle her. Now she was grinning at him — he knew from the way her nose and eyes crinkled under the mask — and he...he was just tired. She exhausted him. Without a word, he turned to follow Trudgen and listened to her follow at a casual stroll behind him, humming under her breath.

  


* * *

The complex before them was supposedly a hideout of an affiliate syndicate of the Bombassa cartel. What had once been some carbon based metal casing on the buildings had not well survived the swamp conditions—the platform they stood on and the buildings themselves gleamed a bright oxidized red between the thick tropical trees and squelching mud. Rust had already begun to coat the lining of Kylo’s cloak.

The plan was to flush out the complex and confiscate the shipments.

“Each of you take a fireteam,” Trudgen was saying, his massive machete gleaming from one hand and forcing everyone to give him a wide berth. Behind him, several storm troopers stood by, nervously clutching their blasters. “I’ll take the left side. Kira, go around back and take the exit. Kylo, take the front.”

“Weapons?” Kira was performing a series of stretches beside him. Her flexibility was...impressive. When she grabbed her ankles with her wrists and leaned down, back arched, Kylo’s eyes snapped to the trees, his lips dragging down into a scowl.

“No lightsabers,” Trudgen said, surveying the building. “Don’t want news to travel that we are here.”

“And the force?” Kylo said impatiently.

Trudgen shrugged, meaning he didn’t care. As good as an affirmative coming from him.

Kylo grunted, dropping his hand from the lightsaber hilt clipped to his waist. He’d have to acquire a weapon while he went in, then. Even so, the thought of finally using the force the way he wanted to filled him with a hungry anticipation. He glanced at Kira who had moved to arm stretches, his eyes dropping first to her shapely ass, then to the slim saber sheaths she had strapped to both legs. He had never seen her lightsabers before. Pity.

She looked up, their eyes catching. Her eyes glittered — a mirror of his own anticipation in them. “I’ll leave you a _few_ ,” she teased, and his brain immediately filled with an animalistic impulse to _show_ her just what he was capable of.

“I’ll leave you _none_ ,” he said softly, just for her, one corner of his mouth curving. It occurred to him he had never engaged in her banter before when he watched her eyes widen, flick down, and then dilate ever so slightly.

He heard the squelch of their two fire teams approaching from behind. Mouth flattening, he raised a hand to secure the black cowl better over his face. For whatever reason, she grinned at that—and he could tell, even obscured by her mask, that it was feral in the way he knew her best.

“Advance,” Trudgen said behind them. “Take no prisoners.”

They moved at the same time, Kira vaulting over the steel platform into the darkness between the trees as Kylo strode straight for the front door.

Blasting the doors off their hinges felt _good_. The force was a fire that flooded through his veins, heady and delightful. He strode through the gaping steel doors to find three armed men waiting for them behind cargo bins.

“ _Iban_ , _cheeskar_!” One screamed in Bocce. The sound of plasma bolts ricocheted in the room, heading towards him.

With a wave of his hand, Kylo froze their blaster shots in mid-air. With no place to go, the momentum of the plasma bolts converted into high pitched vibrations that sounded eerily like screams. One of the men swore, face going white as a sheet, as another stumbled back and tripped, sprawling. Kylo ignored all of them, continuing towards a door at the far end as the storm troopers behind him piled in, blasters blazing. By the time he was wrenching the next door open, the door flying into the ceiling and lodging there, the syndicate men were dead on the ground.

Cleaning out the rest of the complex was quick work— just wash, rinse and repeat. Those that didn’t run screaming from the shock of their blaster bolts being rendered useless faired no better than their counterparts. One man tried to charge him with a vibroblade, only for the hilt of the blade to jump to Kylo’s hands, gutting him in the process. He took the vibroblade with him, parrying with ease the stray attackers that sought to sneak up on him, often blasting them back into the path of blaster fire.

When he and his troops entered the main cargo hanger, things were already in chaos. Two transports were up in flames, and a desperate battle was being waged over a third. As his fire team rushed to ring the perimeter, Kylo strode towards the center of battle, turning the corner of a pile of metal tankers only to stop short at his now unobstructed view.

There was Trudgen, a black force of nature beheading syndicate members left and right. And there on the other side of the room was Kira. In their short time apart she had some how acquired a crude machete and a black rifle and was wielding them both with deadly precision. Bodies formed a twisted path behind her. As she advanced closer to the gangway of the third transport, four men peeled off to meet her.

“You _bitch_!” A green skinned Nautolan charged her with a vibroblade the size of a greatsword. Kira spun, bending backward near in half as the blade passed inches from her face—only to slide from knee to feet again and shoot the man point blank with the rifle at her hip. The machete in her other hand was already arching out, slicing open the chest of a Black Sun thug who had tried to grab her from behind, sending him to his knees with a gurgle of blood.

She paused, eyes darting to the transport, and then backflipped high into the air as a volley of blaster bolts hit the spot she stood. Two shots from her while in mid-flip had her landing between the last two men, who slumped to the ground, perfect head shots.

Kylo’s heartbeat quickened. So _this_ was the infamous Nightshade of the Crimson Dawn. The feared assassin that could take out armies on her own, or so the rumors said. From what he was seeing, the rumors were not far off.

It was _infinitely_ more pleasurable watching her fight when he wasn’t on the receiving end of it.

The engine of the third transport roared to life, cutting off Kylo’s thoughts. A surfeit of wind boomed through the cargo bay, sending troopers and syndicate members flying back, leaving only two people still standing. Trudgen’s arm came up to block the wind, heels dragging backward ever so slightly. Behind him, Kira crouched low to the ground, blade skidding away from her as she dropped it to try to leverage her rifle up and fire. The transport lifted off the ground with a moan.

Kylo strode forward into the wind and stretched out his hand.

The ship rocked, stalling in the air. The sound of engines screaming at max capacity. The weight of several thousand kilos bore down on him, an unrelenting wall in the force. Kylo’s muscles strained, sweat dripping down his temple, teeth bared, veins visible in his arms as he labored with equivalent will of force to close his fingers, inch by inch.

The sound of blaster fire. His name being called. Something hot splashing across his arm like lava, searing into his nerve endings.

For one terrible suspended second, he thought he would break first. His bones would pulverize like star dust. The force of it would rip straight through his arm and splinter him into a thousand pieces. But then—his hand closed sharply into a fist.

The ship exploded.

* * *

“Call in another squad,” Trudgen was saying to a circle of storm trooper commanders. “This should be cleared by nightfall.”

Kylo was leaning against the blackened hull of one of the disarmed transports, staring blankly at the ground. The wound on his forearm— a blaster bolt from one of the syndicate that had nearly broke his concentration—burned fiercely under the hasty dressing a squad ensign had given him. In his periphery, he could see Kira was sitting atop one of the toppled metal containers, legs kicking as troopers milled and rushed around them in the controlled chaos of a post battle.

She had been staring at him intently since he’d force-exploded the transport ship, and that had been at least some thirty minutes ago. Half an hour of heavy silence. The weight of her stare was a physical burn on the side of his face as Kylo’s eyes flicked up to see Trudgen approaching them. He straightened, saw Kira’s feet still, the heat of her stare momentarily abating.

“Mission over. We’ll return to the _Finalizer_ ,” Trudgen said as he stopped in front of them.

Kylo nodded. Kira hopped to her feet.

When Trudgen began to stride away, they made to follow — only to stop short when Trudgen whirled around, pointing a finger at them, “Take another ship back. I’m not flying back with either of you.”

Then he turned and strode off, leaving them both momentarily speechless.

Kira was the first to crack.

“Well,” she said, voice hoarse as if she’d been yelling for hours but her tone still unmistakably wry. “I guess Trudgen gets to keep your helmet then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From a mix of Bocce/Huttese taken from Wookieepedia and [Star Wars langauge sites](http://www.completewermosguide.com):
> 
> _Iban, cheeskar!_ \- Die, Scum!


	4. Chapter 4

Three months later found Kylo on another shitty swamp planet for another cartel raid. Unfortunately, Artoid Minor was somehow worse than Marca not just because it was muddy and miserable but because it rained all year long.

They’d been walking the rainy streets for an hour looking for suitable accommodations. Suitable being a word that neither he nor Kira could agree upon. He was sore from a shoulder injury, waterlogged, mud caked, and at his wits end because she was driving him insane.

His short fuse had tapped out especially early today. It wasn’t even the teasing , or the constant invasion of his personal space, or the maddening glimpses of her ass or breasts in her too thin clothes. All those things he’d learned to bottle up and deal with at the appropriate time, usually afterward in a cold shower.

It was that she wouldn’t stop _arguing_ with him. All. God damn. Day.

What he needed was to get away from her so he could think straight. Apparently, Kira had other ideas.

"You are out of your _mind_ ," Kylo sneered, storming away from the poorest excuse of a hotel he’d seen yet, Kira trailing after him. Vicrul Ren had kicked them out of the transport shuttle again, just like the others did. Kylo was starting to think it was becoming standard procedure, which would normally be fine if Kira had not started immediately following him. 

"There was nothing wrong with that place," Kira snapped, rubbing her hands over her arms in the chill. With her desert blood, she hated the cold. He did too, though for an entirely different reason. The points of her nipples were visible under her shirt, making his jaw clench. She continued oblivious, " _Your_ five star tastes are the problem."

Her flavor of the day mask today was a stabilizer mask with spiral designs she had picked up from a street hawker during their last mission on Theron. She hadn’t shut up about their famous rock formations the entire way there, enough that he’d thought she’d insist that they go see them. Instead he’d spent the entire trip dragging her away from the local pod racing stadium.

"There are gutters with more hospitable accommodations. And it’s not my tastes, it’s that you have _none_."

Kira growled. "We’ll end up _sleeping_ in a gutter if you can’t get over yourself."

He held out a hand to a nearby street. "Feel free to go back at any time."

She didn’t, of course. "You are _impossible_."

Eventually they’d settled on the least offensive hotel Kylo could stand. After twenty grueling minutes of listening to Kira argue with the proprietor over room prices, he’d tossed his credit chip at the man’s face and paid for them both, ignoring Kira’s offended expression as he stormed off down a dark hall towards his room. She’d give him grief about it later, but right now he didn’t care.

The room was as shitty as he expected. Bare brown walls, questionable fiber carpet that he didn’t want to think about too much, a window that was leaking rain water on the window sill, and a desk that was likely as brittle as it looked.

Kylo was forced to suffer the indignity of squeezing into a fresher that was clearly not made for someone of his height. Likely the bed wasn’t either. The water had been tepid and he’d gotten a headache trying to clean his blaster wound under the spray. Jerking off in the cramped space would only annoy him.

When the knock on the door sounded in the middle of redressing, Kylo’s tenuous patience snapped. He stalked over in nothing but a pair of trousers and wrenched it open with a bang, ready to tear into the hapless hotel staff who had thought to bother him in the first place.

What he found instead was Kira standing in the middle of the hall in a new change of clothes, hair freshly wet and eyes spitting fire. Before the door had even fully opened she was already launching into some tirade, but stopped short when the door swung fully open and she got a good look at him. Her mouth fell open, her eyes stuttered and banked.

“What now?" he sneered. "Is the place not up to your _standards_?"

Her expression flickered murderously. “Oh _shut_ _up_.” But instead of retreating, she planted her hands on his bare chest and _shoved_ him, forcing herself physically into his room. That shut him up quicker than her words. This was _not_ their standard protocol.

The look in her eyes was unmistakable though.

“Kira,” he started, and she shook her head sharply, still backing him up until his legs hit the back of the bed. He shut the door behind her with the force, cause clearly it was the last thing on her mind.

“Be _quiet_ ,” she said lowly. “If you keep talking, you’ll ruin everything. Again. _Every time_ I think you’ll finally get it through your stupid thick skull and stop holding back, I remember you’re a masochist. You probably get off on it."

Her hands on his chest were warm. Her gaze were flicking everywhere along his chest, getting stuck somewhere near the curves of his clavicle before repeating the process again. She was biting her lip, and he had the strongest urge to replace it with his thumb. His hand rose unbidden, fingers ghosting along her throat, and she finally looked up at him.

He drew in a sharp breath at the way her pupils were blown wide with hunger. _Fuck._

He wanted to fuck her. He’d wanted to all morning. He wanted to bend her over that brittle looking desk and _ruin_ her.

Something must have showed in his face, because suddenly she was smiling, all teeth and ravenous and all the certainty in the world that he could _try_. He didn’t doubt she would eat him alive if he let her.

This was happening too fast.

His hands retreated to her shoulders, pushing her back just a little. The growl she made in her throat made him lightheaded.

“Not that I care,” he started hoarsely, watched her eyes flutter at the sound. “But I don’t think this is what Vicrul meant when he said to fuck off.”

Kira sneered. Her hands were tracing down his chest now, hovering over the band of his pants. It was impossible to hide how already painfully hard he was. “Yes he did, and the whole squad knew it. Hell, everyone on the _Finalizer_ knew it before we’d even left.” Her eyes flashed up to his, burning. “Everyone except _you_.”

His jaw clenched. It wasn’t like he hadn’t known this was coming, and not just recently either. He’d known since he first stepped onto that Star Destroyer so many months ago and met those liquid star dust eyes across a cargo bay.

How could he not? They were both force wielding apprentices to the Knights of Ren, two celestial bodies gunning for the same crowning spot in a galactic orbit. It was inevitable that they would finally, spectacularly, collide.

Rather, he’d been hoping to put it off longer. She was distracting enough as it was.

He rolled his jaw. "I am not an idiot."

The contempt in her face was galling. "Could have fooled me."

His hands clenched her shoulders hard enough bruise. "I’m not going to _fuck you_ ," he thundered, watching her pupils spasm, her breath quicken, "just because other people expect it."

"And what if _I_ want you too?" she shot back, and he went rigid. “How more direct do you need me to be?" And then she leaned up on her tip toes, her breath washing against his ear. "Don’t tell me you’re afraid, _Ben.”_

_Fuck_.

He practically threw her onto the bed behind him, turning to tower over her. She was already scrambling back to make room, eyes wild and pupils blown as he dropped onto his knees and leaned over her, arms caging her on either side.

“You better not regret this, Kira”, he hissed, saw the spasm of shock on her face, which quickly gave way to fury. Then she was reaching up to grip his hair painfully, rising to meet him.

“No," she hissed fiercely. “It’s _Rey_.”And then she dragged his mouth to hers.

Kissing Kira— _Rey_ —was every bit as hot as he thought it would be and also nothing like what he expected. The slick slide of her tongue tracing his canines, the burn of her teeth, the way she arched into him and moaned as he finally forced his tongue into her mouth. Every pass of their lips was a battle, and every one of his victories was an equally undeniable surrender as she egged him on, fingers fisting in his hair.

His hands cupping her breasts through her shirt made her moan, breaking their contact as she arched back into the bed. She never wore a bra and it had been driving him insane. His thumbs rubbed against her nipples through the coarse fabric of her shirt, and she writhed beneath him, something close to a whine on her lips.

“Kylo,” she said, breathy and stubborn and so very _demanding_ , this insatiable scavenger, this darling little sand-rat, and then her hands were grabbing one of his, pushing them towards her hips, and he eagerly obliged even though it was an impossible angle. His blunt fingers dragged over her fine delicate skin, curving along the crease of her pelvic bones, questing to the warm, wet, heat of her.

He groaned into her neck. God, she was so _wet._ Two fingers slid into her as far as he could manage with her pants still on and he watched as she closed her eyes, shuddering, her mouth forming a perfect, silent _oh._

God, she was so beautiful. So fuckable.

She squirmed under him, fingers digging sharply into his shoulders. “More,” she demanded.

Kylo’s focus narrowed to her. Just her. Every curve of her body, every reveal of flushed skin beneath her shifting clothes, every grind of her hips into the root of his hand. Power over her — over what he could to to her—was intoxicating. But it wasn’t the taking of control that had his gaze fixed on the way she bucked into him at every brush of his thumb.

It was the way she opened her eyes and stared at him, teeth split feral as her hands grabbed to take ownership of him. She forced him to _earn_ it _._ Not to take from her—but to convince her to _let him._

He might not even get her clothes off her, at the rate they were going. He almost didn’t care—his fingers tightened on her skin as she panted, writhing—no, that was lie, he definitely did. But he wanted to see her come, right now, from just his touch. And then he wanted to make her come on his cock. 

“Rey,” he breathed, and she stiffened, pupils blowing wide. She spasmed around his fingers, almost there but not quite. And then her own hands were scrabbling at his, trying to draw his hand away, trying to draw him up. He didn’t budge.

“I want,” she started, voice cracking. “I want you _now_.”

“I know,” he said gently into her ear, listening to her intake a shaky breath. “I’ll give you what you want. But come for me first.”

She growled, shaking her head, even as the pace of his hand quickened, even as her hips rose to match. “I don’t—“

“Rey,” he said, and she clamped down _hard_ , her hips stuttered, her back bowing.

And then, like a good girl, she came for him.

He watched her, hungrily drinking her in. He was going to think of this moment every time he looked at her, from now to eternity. He was going to masturbate to this memory of her in his arms and it was going to ruin him of every other lurid fantasy he had concocted in his dreams.

And then when she came back down and looked up at him, sweat on her forehead as she smiled, he knew he was lost.

“Now,” Rey said, glowing and slightly out of breath. “Now, _I_ get what I want.” And then she was pulling his hand from her pants and shoving him onto his back.

The bed, as he’d known it would be, was too small to afford easy rearrangement of one person, much less two. In the shuffle, her hand hit his bandaged shoulder and he hissed, drawing back on the bed. Rey paused, then pulled herself over his hips and sat up. Her disheveled hair, her red, bruised mouth, her pupils black as the dark sky outside. He would have gladly continued down that distraction and drawn her mouth to his if she hadn’t paused, hand hovering over the blaster burn.

“Can’t you heal that?” She said, fingers tracing the bandage. “Don’t Jedi have healing powers?”

Kylo grit his teeth, even as his hands settled on her waist. “Not all Jedi can heal. I was never blessed with such a force gift.” He couldn’t keep the bitterness from creeping through.

Rey nodded. Her fingers came up to trace his scowl. Then her hips ground down on the hard edge of him, causing his brain to veer right back between his legs.

“All right,” she began, all grating confidence that made him want to roll on top of her again. A roll of her hips quelled him. “I know you want to bend me over that desk over there, and we’ll get to that. But _first_...”

She slid back, unbuttoning his pants. The first touch of her hand on his dick made him hiss, legs stretching rigid beneath him.

“Lovely,” she told him, the appreciation in her voice overriding any embarrassment he might feel. As did the firm squeeze of her hand. He grunted, sex the only thing on his mind.

“Your pants,” he said, and she nodded. She pushed up on to her knees, letting go of him for a moment to undo the clasps of her pants, and she was just pushing the fabric over one knee when he lost patience and rolled them over.

“Kylo!” She snapped, until she saw the look on his face. Then she laughed, letting his hands pull her one leg free from her pants. “ _Ben_.” Before she could say more, he gathered her thighs in his hands, half clothed and all, pushing her knees to her chest so she was completely exposed to him. And then he leaned forward, his body settling along hers, lips inches from her face.

Their eyes met, locked.

When he slid into her, they both moaned. And he swallowed hers with his mouth.

“So fucking perfect,” he muttered, pulling back, and she mewled, clenching around him.

“ _Fuck_ ,” she said, biting her lip. Her fist hit his shoulder as he made a shallow experimental thrust. “Hey, _I_ was going to be—“

His hips canted in to hers, and she cut off with a vulgar noise. He smirked. “You can be on top next time, sweetheart.”

She huffed, leg muscles clenching beneath him and sending his eyes rolling to the back of his head. She was as stubborn as he was. “That wasn’t the deal, _bastard.”_

_Fuck. “_ Rey _,”_ he groaned unthinking, burrowing his face in her neck.

She shivered, fluttering deliciously around him, and he paused at the reaction. Once, an accident, twice a coincidence, but three times? He drew back a little, and under his fascinated stare she flushed, squirming. “That—that is a _dirty_ trick—“

“God, you are...” His hips picked up pace in earnest, earlier conversation forgotten, and despite herself she _writhed_. “You little— _fuck_ , I want to— _Rey_.”

She whimpered, mouth falling open. “Ben—“

“ _Rey_.”

It didn’t take long for either of them.

And her coming around him was exactly as fucking perfect as he expected.

* * *

Vicrul was waiting for them at the docking bay, arms crossed.

"Well, look at you two, all bright eyed and bushy tailed," he sneered, as they approached. "Had a nice night? Was it the weather?"

Kylo grunted. Kira flipped him off. Vicrul chuckled, arms dropping to his sides.

"The target is five hundred kilometers east. We’ll rendezvous with the 301st there. We’re taking a speeder.”

He pointed to what from Kylo’s perspective looked like a rusted bucket of bolts idling beside the _Night Buzzard_. Kira, on the other hand, looked delighted. She zeroed in on the thing, inspecting the hull and muttering to herself as Kylo followed reluctantly behind her. When she hopped into the pilot seat with a pleased expression, Vicrul buckling in beside her, Kylo grunted and settled into the back as comfortably as he could, resigning himself to several hours of awkward silence.

Artoid Minor’s landscape was as boring to look at as he expected, stretches of endless mud, swamp and trees that he didn’t care to remember or know. He spent the majority of the trip staring at the back of Kira’s head as she navigated them through the treacherous terrain with ease.

For it was Kira sitting up there—not Rey.

After several rounds of some of the most mind blowing sex of his life—and yes, they had nearly broken that brittle desk but seeing her bent over with his hands gripping her ass had been _worth it_ —Kylo had stirred at the crack of dawn to find Rey sprawled over the majority of the bed, snoring softly into his rib cage, his hand tangled in her hair. 

He’d allowed himself, in the pre-dawn hours, the indulgence of running his fingers through the smooth, soft strands. For his eyes to linger on those dewy, long lashes resting on her cheeks, her freckles like faint constellations yet unmapped, and that red, wicked mouth. Her atrociously loud snoring had lulled him into a drowsy meditative-like state, and he’d stared with half-lidded eyes at the mess they’d made of the room, wondering with no small amount of uncertainty, if things might be...different now.

He’d fallen asleep.

And when he’d woken, she was gone.

When Kylo had eventually left his room, he’d found Kira scarfing down breakfast at a dirty food stand across the street. She’d waved him over. She didn’t avoid him, or flush with embarrassment, or worse, suddenly start clinging to him the way his (admittedly few) girlfriends back on Hosnien Prime had in the past.

But there was something. Maybe in the resumed distance between them, close but never quite touching, just as it had been before. A stark contrast compared to hours before, when she’d had him on his knees, his face buried between her legs.

Kylo’s mouth flattened behind his mask as he squinted at the flashing scenery around him. 

The truth was, it was probably for the best. They were both apprentices competing for the same position. One day, if they didn’t die in the process of training, they would likely have to kill each other. It was part of the reason he had been initially so resistant to her advances.

Perhaps she had woken in the morning and come to her senses, realizing just how bad an idea them being even sexually together actually was, much less in some greater capacity.

Kylo stared broodingly at the loops of her three knots whipping wildly in the wind.

Maybe she’d still let him fuck her every once in awhile.

By the time they could spot the white flashes of an enclave nestled in the marshlands, and closer still a trooper dropship idling close under the trees, Kylo had worked himself into a foul mood. When Kira pulled the speeder to a quick stop beneath a massive tree, Kylo quickly exited the vehicle after Vicrul and sank five centimeters into thick, sour smelling mud. His mouth curled with disdain behind his mask.

Kira was peering at him curiously from the seat of the speeder. Without a word, he turned his back to her, heading for the squad of troopers, who all snapped to attention as Vicrul approached them.

Unlike their last raid, there was still significant terrain to cross before they reached the compound. There forces would have to take a few drop tanks, with troopers fully armed before hand, as close to the hot-zone as possible.

Unfortunately for Kylo, that was also how he found himself crammed into a small tank with twelve fully loaded storm troopers to his right and Kira sandwiched between his left and the wall of the opening ramp so that they’d be the first ones out.

She was looking quizzically at him in the darkness and he was trying his best to ignore her. It seemed like they hit every root or dip in the road, forcing him to catch himself on the wall and for her to press ever so briefly against the length of him before one or both of them pulled away. He clenched his jaw, staring over her head at the wall.

She had her nose buried in her cowl again, blinking up at him with long, dark lashes. Finally he caved, if only to get her to stop staring. “What?” He ground out.

Her brows furrowed. “I hate the mask.”

Kylo stared at the wall, then slowly turned his head to her. His jaw ticked. “I’m _aware_.“

“That’s not what I meant,” she said, irritation wrinkling her brow, “though yes, _your_ mask is stupidly excessive…But I meant I never liked them. Especially on you. It’s too hard to see what you’re thinking—“

“And why should you know what I’m thinking, Rey?” he snapped, the name falling easily from his lips before he realized. He looked down quickly to find her staring at him, slack jawed and blinking.

And then—Rey flushed from her chest all the way up to her cheeks.

They stared at each other. He watched her expression flicker between acute embarrassment and indignance.

Then he reached up and wrenched his mask off, unable to keep the gloating smirk off his face, and her expression turned murderous and just shy of panicked.

“ _Kylo_ ,” she hissed in a whisper, eyes darting around to the others shuffling nearby, vitriol in every syllable and like music to his ears. “Put it back _on_.” In the shadow of the truck, he turned his back to the rest of the stormtroopers, and touched a gloved hand to her jaw, uncaring of who saw. When the tank jerked over another pothole, sending everyone stumbling, he pressed a hand against the wall behind her, trapping her in a corner, and leaned in.

“But don’t you want to see what I’m thinking?” He whispered, delighted when Rey’s ears pinked. “…And I thought I was _Ben_ now.”

Rey was saved from responding when the tank lurched to a stop. There was the grind of gears, and then the ramp beside them began to descend. Rey pushed him back sharply, wrapping her cowl more tightly around her face to obscure her blush, and stormed out of the tank. He looked up at the ceiling, smirking for just a moment, before he pulled the mask back on his head and followed.

He nearly walked right into Rey, who had stopped dead at the bottom of the ramp. He had to catch himself on the bulwark of the tank or else he would have knocked her clean to the ground. Ignoring the impatient grunting of the storm troopers behind him, he looked down at Rey.

“Kira, what’s the—“ he stopped as he got a good look at her.

Her face was pale as a ghost, her eyes wide and blank. She was staring at something waving on the parapet of the enclave. His gaze ticked up, and then he too stilled.

A huge black flag hung from one of the bridges spanning between buildings. A red half circle like a sun, rising from a red scorched earth.

The Crimson Dawn.

The tanks that had been lined up before them had already unloaded, their soldiers marching forward to raid the base. Gun blaster fire echoed in the jungle. Somewhere in the distance, he heard Vicrul shout, “Advance. Take no prisoners.”

One moment she was flush against him, the next she was gone—running at full speed across the marsh landscape, dodging in and out of blaster fire and men in skirmishes, pelting with singular purpose to one side of the building that was as yet untouched by combat.

Without thinking, he chased her.


	5. Chapter 5

Rey was _fast._

She was zipping across the ground, her strides much longer than her normal ones, and was making short work of any pursuers with out breaking pace. Kylo was easily twice her size and yet the exercise of chasing after her was that of a child trying to beat a seasoned athlete. He watched with awe as she dodged blaster shots with spell binding economy of motion, wall ran the side of a transport hull, and force flipped over a stack of cargo containers.

He had known this when he had trained with her, when he had seen her fight countless times over the last months. Where he had often bested her in the various manifestations of the force—push, pull, mind reading, persuasion—her greatest strength lay in force body manipulation.

And right now, Rey—Kira—was tapping into it full throttle.

It didn’t take long for her to disappear from his line of sight, but the trail of bodies left in her wake was telling enough. She hadn’t drawn her weapons, but she hadn’t needed to. A flip kick from her had sent one syndicate member to the ground with a sickening crack that had left his body imprint in the mud, and the man did not move again as Kylo passed him on foot.

Kira had been aiming for some kind of side door to the compound, and by the time Kylo had made it there the door had been ripped off its hinges and cast aside, the door knob crushed into crinkled metal.

The long dark corridor he shot into showed signs of altercation. Overturned boxes. Blood skid marks on the floor. A body, only their feet sticking out of the hall way, that he was forced to vault over.

Too soon came trouble—the first fork with no clear sign of passage. He skidded to a halt, looking down the dark corridor in both directions. Gritting his teeth, he slammed a fist again the wall. There was no reason to think so, but a sense of urgency filled him that told him he _had_ to find her. An intuition.

A... force.

Something in his mind clicked into place, a connection. He stopped, panting, and then with effort, took a deep calming breath. He closed his eyes, feeling the world narrow to the confines of his body. The blood rushing through his veins, his uneven breath. The stitch working in his side.

When in doubt….trust the force.

Luke’s meditation techniques, he threw out the window. They were not going to work; had never worked for him. He was not good at letting things go. But keeping things—good, bad, terrible—that he could do. Obsession, focus—those he had in spades.

Finding detachment and serenity, ungraspable and unconceivable for him.

But finding _Rey_ ….

His mind filled with her of it’s own accord, as if a specter of her lived somewhere in the back of his mind, just waiting to be acknowledged. There were the physical things about her: the three knots of her hair, the crinkle of her nose and eyes when she grinned, her mouth always so red where she bit her lip. Her dark chocolate eyes filled with mischief and fire. The way she’d looked beneath him the night before, fragile and exposed and yet untamed.

But also other things too: the way she felt to him in the force, like a fountain of spring water in a barren wasteland; her pack rat tendencies to collect things and repurpose them, like the little junk scavenger she’d never grown out of; her uncompromising view of herself.

_At least I am not ashamed of who I am._

The way she _knew_ him even when he didn’t want her to.

_Her eyes soft under the moonlight coming through the window sill as she rolled her hips above him. He couldn’t speak. She smiled and leaned down, her mouth a whisper against his skin._ **_Ben_ ** _._

When Kylo opened his eyes—he _saw_ her.

Just a flicker. Like a silver mirage. She moved like liquid shadow, fighting some unseen force. She was _Kira_ , he could see it so clearly now: flat face, dead eyes. He reached out a hand, felt something tug sharp in his chest, and then for a moment she jumped back, brow furrowed, her eyes darting up and meeting his—

Then she disappeared.

Kylo staggered against a wall, gasping for breath.

Not quite. He didn’t see her…but he knew where she _was_.

A cold sweat broke across his skin. That…that had been no mere force trick. That had been more—and of what he had no idea. But he didn’t have time to figure it out. Urgency had turned to high pitch fever in his veins. He would have to trust in this bond—whatever it was. He couldn’t see her anymore, but he could still feel her somehow, like a fading echo. Like a candle nearly puttering to nothing.

He barreled down the left fork, doors and paths blurring in the periphery as he turned corners left and right, following that tenuous connection like a red string in the dark.

Then he turned a final corner, his breath coming in gasps, a stitch bright and painful in his side—and there she was. He had found her.

Kira was fighting in the middle of a room, bodies laying unconscious around her. He watched as the last man standing charged her with a blade and she assumed a fighting stance he had never seen before, palms up and arms loose.

Two quick kicks disarmed the man with ease. Her palms came up, movements so quick that he could hardly track them, and then the sound of bone crunching ricocheted sickeningly in the room and the man toppled to the floor, eyes sightless.

Kira stared at the man’s face dispassionately, and Kylo frowned, moving to approach her when he stopped short at a new voice.

“So you _do_ remember _Teräs Käsi_ then.” It came from a woman who stepped out of an adjacent room. An older woman, possibly in her fifties. Her hair was white, her lips painted red, her outfit sharp and clean lines of black. A Crimson Dawn necklace rested on her chest. She looked unruffled and in control, despite the number of dead subordinates at Kira’s feet. Her hand rested lightly on a blaster holstered to her waist. “So nice to see traditions still being kept.”

Kira straightened slowly from her crouch to face the woman. From his angle he could only see part of her face but it was enough. He watched as the person that was _Kira_ crumbled, stripped away like a cast off mask. The person left standing before him was _Rey_.

_“Qi'ra_ ,” Rey breathed and some how he knew she wasn’t talking about herself.

Unable to stand back anymore, Kylo strode in to the room. The woman flicked her gaze at him, mouth ticking down. The hand on her blaster laxed entirely, then fell away, and he felt a pang of satisfaction. At least she was smart enough to know when she was outgunned.

Rey didn’t turn to look at him, like she knew he had been there all along. He moved to stand beside her, close enough that their clothing brushed against each other.

The woman surveyed them curiously, eyes too inquisitive. Kylo didn’t like the look in her eyes.

“Kira,” he said lowly, meant for her ears alone. He didn’t dare say her real name, not in front of this stranger.

To his chagrin, the woman must have either read his lips or heard him because her eyebrows raised abruptly and she flashed a look at Rey.

“Qi'ra?” She said. The accent was different, but the name was clearly the same. “Is that what you go by now, Rey?”

So she had already known then. Kylo’s jaw clenched.

Rey’s face betrayed nothing, thought she shifted ever so slightly. Behind her back, where the woman couldn’t see, she extended her hand and ran her fingers along the edge of his cape. He got the sense that she was telling him things were fine. Obscured by her profile, he pinched the fabric of her cowl, and tugged ever so slightly.

“None of your business,” Rey said.

“On the contrary…” The woman cocked her head. “Names have power and significance. Sounds to me like having my former protégé taking my name would be information that is very much my business.”

Kylo stiffened, eyes flicking to Rey. This— _this_ was her former master?

Snoke’s words echoed to him from what felt like a lifetime ago: _The burden of masters is to be what their students rise above._

This was her master. This was her _Luke._

Kylo slowly straightened, feeling a strong sense of vertigo. No matter what strange bond had compelled him to rush to her side, he shouldn’t be here with her for this. _Especially_ not him. A host of undefined emotions bubbled in his chest that he didn’t dare analyze in this moment, all centered somewhere in selfishness: selfish for her, selfish for himself. Selfish for himself about her.

Rey stepped back, her hand reaching for his wrist. The touch soothed him in a way that was almost chilling in its own right, even as she said, “You don’t have the right to know about me anymore.”

Qi'ra lifted her chin, and despite being shorter than both of them, gave off the impression she was looking down at them from a great distance. “If you are referencing what happened to you—I didn’t have anything to do with it. I don’t squander assets. It was the others that were afraid. Afraid they couldn’t control you.”

Rey glared. “Just because you didn’t have a hand in it doesn’t mean you aren’t culpable. I know you better than that.”

Qi'ra laughed low. It was rich and lovely. She was beautiful now—she must have been gorgeous when she was young. “Oh, Rey,” she said, smiling, “I forgot how enjoyable it was to talk with you. Now a days I can hardly get more then fools with two brain cells in one room.” She walked over to a desk on the far side of the room that had remained untouched by the fighting. She ran long blood red nails over the surface.

“I guess it should come as no surprise. Little by little, the Crimson Dawn’s influence has slowly eroded away.” She raised her hands to the ceiling, to a the Crimson Dawn banner that hung there. “Now look at the Dawn. Fractured into spiteful pieces when it had once been great.” She dropped her hands, eyes cold and flinty as they settled on Rey. _“He_ would have never let this happen."

Rey’s expression flickered, though with what Kylo didn’t know. She seemed to be choosing her words carefully, "You _hated_ him.”

Qi'ra’s mouth flattened. “I did. But he got results.”

“He has been dead for thirty years. Get over it.”

Qi'ra suddenly smiled. “But his legacy still lives, doesn’t it?”

Rey stiffened. The hand on his wrist tightened almost painfully.

Qi'ra glanced slowly between Rey and him. The look of pleasure that suffused her face was familiar—he had seen the same look in Rey, when she was being most particularly aggravating. Like she knew something he didn’t.

Qi'ra leaned back against the desk. “What a nice little chat we are having. A nice stroll down memory lane. Since, we’re here…” she spread her hands out again. “What can I do for you? What does my little girl need.”

Rey twitched. “I am not little. And I am not yours.”

“No”, she said. “Even when I owned you, you weren’t mine. And now you are trying to rise _above_ me, aren’t you? Still trying to find your place, unable to accept the place you’ve been given. Should I help you?”

Rey stayed silent.

Qi'ra’s eyes turned to him then, lips curling cruelly. “You know…you remind me of someone. Someone I knew long ago. What’s your name?"

Rey twitched. "Leave him out of this."

"Why don’t you let _him_ decide for himself. Perhaps I can help _him_ —“

The first signs of temper flared in Rey’s eyes. She dropped his hand, taking a menacing step forward. “We don’t _need_ your help, not the kind you give.”

Qi'ra raised her voice, fully addressing him now. “I wonder how much she’s told you. Did you know she was nothing more than a starved street urchin when I bought her from her parents? A little thing, she could have been so easily crushed by the world we lived in. But she had her own dreams, didn’t you Rey?” Her eyes flicked back to Rey, who’s face was darkening with anger. “Counting the days on that sheet of metal, the days before she could return to parents that had already left her. Always so _angry_.” Her lips pursed. “I see that hasn’t changed at all.”

“Nothing you’ve told me,” Kylo said quietly, “I didn’t all ready know.”

Qi'ra looking at him, accessing how truthful he was being. Then her gaze fixed on Rey.

“I’ll admit, I’m surprised. But you never did know everything.” That cruel glint in her eyes, so like the Kira he had known before he met Rey. “Tell me, girl….Do you want to know why your father sold you?”

Rey started violently. “Don’t you dare talk about him to me,” Rey hissed. “My father was—“

Qi'ra’s face hardened. “The worst kind of man. The kind who couldn’t even acknowledge what a coward he was.” Rey flinched as she continued, “Giving you to us was the only thing he ever did right by you. He would have gotten you killed out of sheer stupidity, just to save his own pride.” She paused. “Like he did to your mother.”

Rey’s face drained of color. She looked stunned. Then barely a whisper, “No. Shut up.”

Qi'ra studied the younger woman’s face, and then suddenly she sighed. For the first time, the older woman looked tired. “I see. You still haven’t lost that part of you that believes that people are better than they really are. I told you you should have cut it away, long ago. Now look where we are. You can’t even let go of _me_.”

A long, heavy silence. The hatred that filled Rey’s eyes was almost startling in it’s ferocity. “I _can_ kill you.”

Qi'ra nodded. “You can.” Then a humorless smile. “But _could_ you?”

Rey grit her teeth, hands falling to the light saber sheaths at her side—

An explosion rocked the building, and then an ominous hum that seemed to come directly from the earth. The ceiling shuddered, chunks of debris falling around them as the ground under their feet began to ripple and slide. Rey stumbled backwards, barely dodging a steel beam that toppled to the ground, and Kylo caught her in his arms.

By the time they looked up, Qi'ra was standing in the doorway of the room she had come from, waiting. Her eyes locked with Rey’s. She gave a two fingered salute— and then dashed through the door.

Something like a scream ripped from Rey’s throat. She shoved him away, vaulting over tumbling boxes. Her lightsabers flew into her hands and she ignited them, blood red blades. “Qi'ra!” she shouted, eyes red and wet, and then she too had disappeared through the door.

Cursing, Kylo charged forward, flinging his arm to redirect a large steel rack that would surely have crushed him. He made it to the door, only for him to run into Rey standing stock still in the middle of the room. He got a mouthful of her hair, as he staggered into her. This was the second time in less than an hour. She was going to have to desist this terrible habit. “Rey, what are you doing,“ he hissed, glancing behind them. The walls looked like they were vibrating. “We’ve got to—“ he stopped, finally seeing what Rey was staring at.

There, huddled against the far wall, clearly cowering away from Rey and her glowing red lightsabers, was a group of children.

There were six of them, all under the age of seven or eight. The oldest, a young boy, was holding a toddler in his arms. The others, two boys and two girls, cowered in terror behind him, whimpering.

The red glow of the slave chokers was visible even in the dim light.

The older boy’s eyes flicked to Kylo, then back to Rey, who still had her lightsabers on. She seemed to come to her senses, immediately powering them down, and took a step forward.

One of the children screamed. The boy whipped his hand out, eyes fierce. “ _Bata_ , _cheeka goola_!” He spit on the ground at her feet.

Kylo’s Huttese was poor on the best of days, never mind when the building they were in was coming down around their ears. Rey, on the other hand, went white as a sheet. Her hands started to shake.

The ground rocked beneath them, a ticking time bomb.

“Rey.” Kylo strode forward, ignoring the whimpers of the kids, as he grabbed her shoulders, spinning her around. “We don’t have time for this. What do you want to do?

She opened her mouth, eyes unfocused— and he shook her just a little. “Rey, look at me.” She did so. The wounded look in her eyes made his jaw clench, but he needed her to focus or they were all going to die. He would slap her, if he had to. “We can take them with us, but we have to go now. I don’t know much about slave collars. Can they leave without getting hurt?”

She took a breath. “I—“ she swallowed, then shook herself. It was a relief to see her eyes were clear again. “Yes. The red light means the location sensors has been disengaged. They can come with us.”

So someone — Qi'ra — must have deactivated them. An act of pity, save for the fact that she hadn’t taken them herself.

Maybe she had known that Rey would. Rey, who would understand from personal experience what the collars meant.

Grimacing, Kylo let go of her shoulders and took a step towards the children. One of the kids whimpered. The young boy holding the little one to his chest bared his teeth. “ _Hagwa pushee_ , _ootmian_ —”

“If you don’t leave with us now you will _die_.” Kylo said frankly, holding out his hand. Even if he didn’t understand the words, the gesture was universal. “And not from us.”

The boy froze. A moment of silence, distrust warring with increasing fear as what sounded like another building collapsed nearby. The sounds were drawing closer. Then he nodded, throat bobbing.

“ _Boska_ ,” the boy said and the frightened kids sprung into motion.

“Quickly now,” Kylo said as a little girl ran to him, arms outstretched. He scooped her up in one arm, then a small boy in the other. Rey had sheathed her sabers and had grabbed hold of the two other children’s hands. She looked much steadier now, though something hunted still reflected in her eyes. She nodded at him, the relief in her face palpable.

He looked at them all, then motioned to the door, mouth grim. “ _Run_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huttese from [this](http://www.completewermosguide.com) website again:  
>  _Hagwa pushee, ootmian_ \- Don’t move, foreigner  
>  _Bata, cheeka goola!_ \- Back, bad woman!  
>  _Boska - Let’s go_


	6. Chapter 6

“What happened,” Kylo asked evenly from a collapsable chair, elbows on his knees and eyes fixed on Vicrul who stood with his arms crossed.

“They blasted the support beams out of their own buildings. The whole thing was timed to sink, with the buildings in the back falling last.”Even through the mask, Kylo felt the glare of mistrust. Vicrul’s tone turned sharp. “Speaking of which… how exactly did you two find yourselves there? No one else made it as far as you did.”

Kira was standing to the side, face stoney and pale. She’d ripped her mask off awhile ago and the straps had left visible red lines on her jaw and neck. Her voice was flat. “I discovered a way in and made the call to proceed. Kylo followed.” She looked up, eyes flinty and defiant. "I got a look at their leader. Though she escaped, her lieutenants are dead. The Crimson Dawn won’t recover for a long time. You should be _thanking_ me."

Vicrul grunted, making it clear he thought otherwise. They had been sniping at each other for the last half an hour and it was getting old. Kylo turned his head, glancing at the bundle of limbs in the corner, of which a few faint snores could be heard.

They were in a small pop tent some fifty kilometers from the conclave. Outside the noise of drop tanks and marching platoons filled the swamp. In the corner sat the kids, each wrapped in a First Order standard issue blanket. A pallet had been laid out for them to rest on. Most of the kids were already asleep, exhausted by the frightening events of the day. The oldest boy, however, still clung to consciousness despite his drooping eyes, jerking every once in awhile to stare warily at the adults on the other side of the tent. The careful looks he kept sending Vicrul in particular had Kylo suspecting that the boy did in fact understand Galatic Basic, even if he didn’t speak it.

Their slave collars still hung around their necks. Though the location sensors had been deactivated, the security features for removal attempts would not have been. Only the manufacturers would be able to remove them at this point.

Vicrul grunted. “Leave them here. We don’t need more mouths to feed."

"Don’t worry yourself," Rey snapped scathingly. "They’ll get dropped off at the local authorities."

"With _who’s_ ship."

Rey’s jaw clenched. "I’ll take _care_ of it. It won’t disturb you in the least."

Vicrul sneered. "See that you do," and then he left them.

Silence filled the room in his wake. Neither of them moved to leave; the kids were asleep and Kylo had nothing else to do. He stared at Rey over steepled hands. Her gaze remained stubbornly fixed on the floor, her mouth in a flat line.

Finally, Kylo’s patience ran out. "Are we going to talk about it?"

Rey glanced at him, then at the kids in the corner. The oldest boy’s head had finally slumped on to his chest, eyes shut. Her eyes flicked broodingly to the floor. "What’s there to talk about it."

Now this was a ironic role reversal for them. Normally it was Rey who wouldn’t stop talking, Rey who’d pry information out of his cold, resistant fingers.

"So that was her," he said quietly. "Your master."

Rey jerked violently, teeth bared. "She does not _own_ me," she spat, and he realized, feeling foolish, that the word meant something very different to her than to someone like him who had trained under the jedi teachings. He recalled how the word had never left her lips when they had spoke with the Supreme Leader.

The thing was, Q’ira _had_ been her master — in both senses.

He would have pitied her except for the fact that Snoke was _their_ master. He owned them in all definitions of the word. Kylo had accepted that.

But he could see now what Snoke did— that Rey never would. A fine thing to have in an apprentice, as long as you could control them.

"What you call her doesn’t matter," he said carefully, studying her expression closely for signs of duplicity. "If you kill her then you complete your training."

Rey’s lips curled in disdain. "Her? No. Killing her does nothing for me."

He latched on to that. "Why? Because she has something you need?" Her face flickered, just a little. "Because she knows about you? About your parents?"

Rey looked away. "I don’t trust anything she says. Q’ira _lies_. Everything she has ever told me is some twisted half truth that benefits her."

But she didn’t sound confident. And in that moment, he saw it —her greatest weakness. The carrot stick that Q’ira and Snoke must have dangled in front of her all this time. More than power, more than blood, Rey wanted to _know_ why her parents had left her. She could not stop needing them until she knew that there was a reason for all of this. All her suffering.

There was only one piece left of the puzzle that didn’t fit though.

"…Who was he?"

Rey stilled, expression turning wary. "…Who?"

She was going to be stubborn, then. "You know. _Her_ master. The one who died thirty years ago."

Rey’s face twitched. "It doesn’t matter. He was no one. He died before I was even born. Q’ira is the one who can’t let go of him."

"Then why," he said slowly, "did she insist his legacy lives on in you?"

Rey slowly straightened, eyes flicking between his. There was something in her eyes he had never seen before, not directed at him. A calculation. A cold evaluation.

They were interrupted when Vicrul suddenly stormed into the room. Kylo had never seen him so twitchy, the force rippling in agitation around him. He barked, “Change of plans. We’re taking the brats with us and dropping them off at Kijimi. Get them ready.”

He would have walked straight back out if Rey had not vaulted to her feet.

“Kijimi? That is a stormtrooper camp. You can’t be serious.”

Vicrul went rigid. His hands flexed at his sides. “I’m not asking for your opinion, Kira. I am ordering.”

Rey’s mouth flattened. “Vicrul, some of these kids are hardly older than _five_ —”

Vicrul turned and backhanded her flat in the mouth. Kylo jerked to his feet than stopped, teeth clenched, as Vicrul immediately pulled his scythe from his back, pointing it at him. Vicrul’s gaze never left Rey. “Don’t make me repeat myself,” he said lowly. “I do not give a single shit about those children’s lives outside of the Supreme Leader’s will.”

Rey brought a hand to her face, expression cold. A speck of blood gleamed off her knuckles as she passed them over a now red and puffy mouth.

Vicrul’s voice was cold. “Now. Either you will accept the generous blessing the First Order has bestowed on them and _follow orders_ …or you can bring your complaints to the Supreme Leader himself.”

Rey glared at him fiercely, and for a moment Kylo thought she might go for her lightsabers. Finally, she looked away, eyes black and furious.

Vicrul grunted. “Good.” He re-slung his scythe and then in a whirl of his cloak, he was gone.

Kira stood rigid in the center of the room, looking about to explode. Kylo contemplated what to do until a sound from the corner had both of them snapping their heads in that direction.

It had been the toddler, snuffling and beginning to cry. The older boy patted his back, rubbing in soothing circles. His eyes were clear though. So he’d been awake during the outburst.

He didn’t look enraged, or frightened, or resentful though. He looked…. resigned.

Kira took one look at the kids, mouth flat and expression full of brittle emotions, and then she stormed out of the tent.

Kylo started after her. Leaving her alone would only spell trouble, he could see it. She was on the tipping point of a knife’s edge.

He caught up to her at the demarcation line of marsh grubber trees, a hand grabbing her elbow. "Rey—"

“No,” She hissed, jerking out of his grip, and then whirled to face him. “Don’t patronize me. I don’t care what Vicrul says. This is…it’s…” her mouth twisted, language failing her, and then, she finished on a whisper, “…it’s _wrong_.”

She said the word like she was almost embarrassed by it. But she didn’t take it back either. He paused, considering her. Then he asked simply, "What would you do?"

She ran a hand through her hair, growling. "I don’t know. There must be something." She laughed, high and cold. "We are Snoke’s apprentices. We hold the power over thousands, millions of lives. What is the point of that power if it can’t be used to save even one."

"It’s the Supreme Leader’s will," he pointed out.

Rey sneered. "Snoke doesn’t care about lives, he cares about tools. In the grand scheme of things, tools are replaceable."

Kylo nodded. "And so are we."

Kira shot him a look of disdain. "You mean _I_ am. Snoke always meant for you to replace me. It was only a matter of time."

Kylo didn’t bother trying to deny it. "So what, you’ll do this just to spite him?" When she said nothing, he took a step closer to her. "Don’t throw away your life for something that has no chance. What are you going to do with a bunch of kids? You can’t take them with you."

"I know that," she hissed. "But I—Ben, I can’t. You can’t ask me to turn a blind eye to this."

"I am and I will," he said evenly. "You know better than anyone what the life of a slave is like. The First Order may not be kind, but those kids will _survive_. That is better than most."

" _Don’t_ ," she hissed, drawing away. "Don’t justify one form of slavery for another. Not to me.”

He shrugged. "We don’t always get to choose our masters."

Her eyes flashed. "No. But we can choose to not become them."

At that, he drew back, brow furrowing. "Then why are you here?" At her blank look, he raised his hands, gesturing at their surroundings. "What are we doing, what is all of this even _for_ , if we are not trying to replace them?"

They stared at each other. Shock registered on Rey’s face, then dismay, then anger, then a flurry of emotions too fast for him to decipher. Then, her face shuttered closed, and it was like watching a door shut forever.

They stood at an impasse.

"What is the real issue, Rey," he said finally.

She struggled for a moment. Then, "If I let them go, I am condemning them to the life I hated."

"And if you take them with you," he said gently, as he would only ever be for her, "you condemn them to death."

In the end, the kids came with them. The drop off to Kijima went without a hitch. He watched through the transparisteel view from the pilot seat as the six children were taken into custody by officers and escorted to a shuttle.

Rey did not see them go.

Rey had not been there at all.

She had walked away from Kylo outside that tent in the swamp, eyes dark and burning, and had disappeared.

* * *

Rey didn’t return to the _Finalizer_.

At first, there were rumors. The Knights were sent off ship, one by one, until only he remained.

Then came a deadly quiet. No news, no mention of her name. As if she had never existed in the first place.

And then, finally, what he had been waiting for since the day she had left him standing there in Artoid Minor finally happened.

Snoke summoned him to his chambers.

The moment Kylo stepped foot off the elevator, he was jerked forward by the force, dragged by his heels to where Snoke stood menacingly in the middle of the room.

There was no pre-amble. This was no test. This could very likely be the end.

“Ben Solo,” Snoke bellowed, and then Kylo was being lifted into the air and suspended like a puppet on a string as the full extent of Snoke’s power opened to him for the first time. And there were no words for the fear that rose in him, for which all others fears paled in comparison. He was a fly caught in a spider’s web as expansive as the galaxy, as bright and burning as a thousand suns.

This was not a fight he could win.

_“_ You will give. Me. _Everything_.”

The world shook. Sensations, vibrations down to his very atoms. The leviathan of force toppled and crashed into him, submerging him, crushing him, filling him to burst, tearing him apart.

There was no enduring it. It simply was.

Afterwards, Kylo came abruptly to consciousness on the floor, his heart in his throat, his body jack knifing in paroxysms of shock as Snoke paced nearby, expression contemplative.

“Interesting,” Snoke was saying above him, tone now cool and remote. “So you did not know. Good. I am spared having to lose a second apprentice.”

Snoke moved away from where Kylo sprawled on the ground, returning to his throne. He sat down.

“Tell me Kylo…would you like to know who she really is? This woman who _seduced you_ —“ the room shook with vitriol and scorn” —so easily. Would you like to know how she lied to you?”

Kylo said nothing. His raw throat had given out long ago from screaming.

Snoke leaned back, waving a hand in the air. “She is the last of a great legacy, though she knows it not. A legacy possibly even greater than yours. But just like you, she was trained by the hands of lesser men and traitors. By disciples to a powerful, though pitiful, man who’s life was so consumed with destroying the legacy of his former master that his singular will extends, even now, beyond the grave."

His hand dropped. "And she—she was his crown. She would be his greatest vengeance.”

Then Snoke leaned forward, fingers steepled together, his eyes glittering and cold.

“Tell me, my young apprentice. Did you ever hear the tragedy of Maul, the Shadow?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ....As a pre-TFA fic, it seemed only fair that this would naturally lead into a TFA role-reversal sequel. :D This is certainly not the end for these two, which is wonderful since I grew to love them both over the course of writing this. <3 This was SO much fun to write Merixcil, thank you for the prompt and I hope this satisfies your request!
> 
> Original prompt:
> 
> Prompt 3 - As a young child, Rey is captured by the First Order. Upon realising that she is Force Sensitive she is drafted into the Knights of Ren. This is the story of how she sees beyond the First Order's directive and breaks away from them. She can take Ben with her or not when the time comes, depending on what you think works best for the characters, but I would prefer that Rey does some bad things before she realises that what the FO are up to is not cool


End file.
